One might expect an individual to expand their horizons and become comfortable around there coworkers after a great deal of time had passed. Unfortunately for Ignatius, the stereotype had never truly worked out. For him, his life was quiet and efficient. He went to work for the Auror’s Office and then he went home to his little apartment and remained quiet until he’d fallen asleep. Most would consider his life to be boring but he filled the time with books, family bloodline records and the ever expanding mountain of office paperwork.

The man had taken a fond interest in cold cases, dusty old files buried deep within the archives that didn’t matter to anyone anymore. They were hardly the most thrilling read, in fact most of them were petty crimes that elderly ladies had reported in desperate hopes to see the return of their knickknacks.

It had become too easy for him to fade into the background and live in the past, forgetting the present and forgetting that people existed around him. Regardless of his invisible personality, it was impossible for him to fade into the background when he was the only person sitting in the lunch room. He usually picked a time when plenty of others were in the room and he could just sit by, eat, and leave.

Cautious that he would be dragged into a casual banter with his co-workers, he anxiously picked at a sandwich in front of him and stared intently at the grain of the bread. Anything that made him look busy. Anything.

Neville's usual lunch of Ham and Swiss on rye with a side salad was joined by a large file of paperwork that he slammed down on the table next to him. He flipped open the cover presumably oblivious to the presence of anyone else in the otherwise empty lunch room. He had managed to file all his regular paperwork in a decent amount of time and wasn't working too many open cases but he still seemed to be bogged down and rarely had time to look into his Grandmother's attack. He had taken to going over what he could during his lunch hour in order to fit in it.

It was coming up on a year with no leads and no improvement on her status, edging it into the cold case department. While it bothered him deeply, picked away at him, Neville did his best not to think about it from an attached position and instead to look at it like any other Auror would. If he thought too much on it he might fall into despair knowing that yet another family member (the only parent and role model he had ever really known) was now residing in the longterm care ward at St Mungo's.

As he took a bite of his sandwich he flipped to the photos taken of the crime scene. Every so often you'd see an Auror flit by as they investigated. He wished the moving images would give him more clues but they were as baffled as he was. There was obvious signs of struggle, there was no way the old bat would go down without a fight but the scorch marks from missed spells gave no clue as to who had cast them. There was too much magical residue to even know just how many assailants there had been. He didn't even know if it was a robbery gone wrong or a deliberate attack.

"Bullocks."

For most people, it was probably quite common to just sit down at a table near someone and think nothing of it. For Ignatius, it was quite stressful. He saw the other man, and knew him by reputation more than anything, and he continued to stare intently at his sandwich in hopes that he would somehow develop the ability to turn completely invisible before Neville noticed him. They hadn’t spoken, but he was one of those people that most people knew of.

He had work with him, which in retrospect was a fantastic idea for the next time Ignatius came into the lunchroom. If he was carrying around a folder of casework then he had an excuse to avoid any social contact within the room. People didn’t often interrupt those that looked like they were hard at work, Ignatius didn’t believe he was going to interrupt the other man in the room either. Until he spoke.

Ignatius looked over his shoulder, trying to work out what was bothering the other man so much. The case looked similar to a million other folders he had seen, figures moving about and doing their work in the crime scene while the poor Auror working the case had to sit there and stare at the photos for days on end.

“Is something the matter?” he said, barely above a whisper. He didn’t know why he was offering to speak now of all times, but it was too late to turn back.

Neville looked up bewildered at the sudden voice. For one awkward stunned moment he wondered just how long the other man had been there. Had he just arrived, or had he been there the entire time? Neville had no answer. He had been so engulfed in his work that he had taken no notice of those around him. When the silence had dragged on a little longer than was polite he shook himself, "Oh um . . . it's an older case that hasn't gone anywhere. Just frustrating, you know?"

He gave a weak smile to the other Auror wracking his brain to try and recall a name. For the life of him he couldn't remember and hoped the two had never officially worked on a case together. That would have been embarrassing. Normally he was rather good with names, it was one of the few things he hadn't been completely forgetful about during his school days. However he had found since returning to the Corps, some faces and names had escaped him. Not to mention any of the newer recruits that were fresh out of the academy.

Despite his awkward start Neville continued, "I feel like I've been staring at these pictures of years and I still can't make sense of them." He flipped through the pages again, "There's no sign, no hint as to who did it, no motive, nothing particularly missing and my only witness is laying in a bed in St Mungo's in a coma since last Christmas."